


In Spirit

by KendylGirl



Series: The Alchemy of Butterflies [8]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Boys In Love, Established Relationship, Friendship, Longing, M/M, award shows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 16:05:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18014003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendylGirl/pseuds/KendylGirl
Summary: Armie isn’t happy about attending the 2019 Independent Spirit Awards alone, especially given what happened last year.  He gets by with a little help from some friends.





	In Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> I know that in real life, Mr. Hammer was accompanied to the event; however, in my little universe here, there is only one date he’d ever have (well, two, if you count Archie…)
> 
> Some people may not realize that Willowbrooke is not only a superb beta, but if you’re looking to cash in on _Jeopardy_ , she’s your girl! :)

_Five more seconds and I’m gone_.

My legs stutter left. 

Stop.Smooth the jacket.

Look up. 

Down.

Left.Right.

“A few more.”

Shoulders back.

Up.Down.

Don’t blink.

“Armie, can we get a smile?”

_Fuck off_.

Gone.

I didn’t want to be here without him.Not surprising since I don’t want to be anywhere without him.But all I got of him last year was a tiny square of his face, my longing to be at his side only adding to my nausea.I had tried to get up three times that afternoon, once even crawling to the bathroom, certain that if I could just get in the shower and run frigid water on my head, the fever would break and I could go to him.I had ripped off my t-shirt and hauled myself up from the tile only to vomit ginger ale all over the glass door.

When I had made it back to bed, my head had been spinning, a lurching vertigo that made the whole room twist and tumble.I had fumbled for my phone to call him and tell him.When his face appeared, his eager smile had snapped off like a light switch.“Oh, _shit_!What’s wrong?What’s _happened_ to you?”

I was lying on my side, half my face shoved into the folds of the pillow because I didn’t trust myself to sit up.“Flu.Bad.”

He had pulled the phone to his face, and his eyes had worked me over, large and luminous, concern etching the severe draw of his cheeks and the hovering slant of his eyebrows.In my delirium, I had reached out to smooth them with my thumb, smudging my phone screen.I just wanted to touch him, to sleep in the nest of his hair and feel his cool fingers on my forehead.

“Jesus, Armie…that sucks, that really _sucks_.”He chewed his bottom lip.“Well, is…Liz is there, right?Is she at least trying to—“

“Yeah.”I had coughed and winced at the fresh wave of nausea.“She got me some soda and crackers.”Even with my head in the toilet, I had known how pissed she was to be missing the show after she’d spent two days ordering stylists to the house until she’d finally found a dress she deemed suitable for the occasion. 

“You’re naked.”There was a burst of static as he’d exhaled hard into the speaker.“Why are you naked?”

“Took my shirt.Off.Too hot.”My eyes were watering, so I had swiped at them with the back of my free hand.The effort of speaking was making my gut roil dangerously, so I clenched my stomach muscles because I didn’t want him to know.I didn’t want him to hang up and leave me all alone.I didn’t want to lose him.

“No, no, no!Put it back on!You’ll catch a chill.Are you in bed right now?At least get under the covers.Pull the covers up, and let your fever do its job.That’s what my mom always says: you’ve got to let your fever work for you…”He was talking so fast I couldn’t keep up with the words, so I just shut my eyes and listened to his voice, its breathless roll, a frenetic lullaby that somehow managed to calm my breathing and round off the edge of my queasiness.I had started to drift then, my exhaustion gradually winning the war.“…should let you go.”

My eyes flew open and I clutched at the phone with both hands.“No!No, Timmy, don’t…please don’t go.Please.Just…I…can you…”

He had stilled and stared at me for a moment.Then, I saw the scene behind him swish and change from a black ceiling and a gaggle of ambient noise to softly lit travertine tile. _Bathroom_.I heard a metallic click as he had thrown the lock on the door.“It’s all right.I’m here.”There was an unsteady hiss of fabric as he slid down the wall, and I could tell from the angle that his forearms were propped on bent knees.The room’s recessed lighting had accentuated every contrast, making his hair an inky swarm that swallowed the glare from the white of his shirt, his eyes like swirls of nighttime in the shadowed landscape of his face.“Tell you the truth:I wish I was with you right now.”

I had tried to smile.“No, you don’t.”

He had pulled the phone closer.“Yeah.I do.”He sighed.“This shit’s no fun without you.Who’s going to heckle the hosts for me now?Mulaney’s gonna roast me somehow, I can feel it.”He’d chuckled.“And, hell, if I actually win, I won’t have anyone in the room that I…I mean, Nick’s here and everything, but…I don’t know….”

“Of _course_ you’re gonna…”My throat had tightened, and the words died.“I’m so sorry, Tim.” I squeezed my eyes shut.“I’m really…I’m letting you down.God…”

“Shut the fuck up, you idiot.”The words were warm, affectionate.“You could never do that, Armie.Don’t you get that?You’re always exactly what I need.”

I swore I’d heard him wrong, the fever decimating the line between what was and what could be.It only made the urge to cry even stronger, and I curled into a ball, nearly losing sight of him as my head pushed deeper into the pillow.

I heard a rustling.“Look, I guess I’d better get out there, get in my requisite amount of schmooze time.”His voice had echoed as he stood up.“But if you need anything—I mean _anything_ —you call me, all right?I won’t bother you ‘cause you need to sleep, but I’ll answer anytime.Got it?”

I nodded at him.

“And when you’re better, I’ll bring _your_ award to your house.”

_Fuck._ I’d forgotten I was even nominated, but I was too weak to speculate just then what exactly it meant that all I cared about was being there to see him shine, that I would miss a chance to stare across a room and allow my face to slip, for just a few moments, into the grooves that would let my real emotions to the surface.I nodded again, once.

“Later,” he winked. 

I had stared at the black screen until my eyes clouded over, clutched it to my chest while I slept.It was my only tether to him, and I would never let it go.

I had no concept of how much time had passed before I suddenly snapped awake in a rush of panic.For some reason, there was a tray on my chest with crackers and a cold bowl of some kind of sloshing liquid, and based on the stench, it was the gross soup I’d been unable to swallow earlier without gagging.She had probably thought it was funny to pin me to the bed with it and not simply place it next to me on the nightstand. _Wonderful._ A note taped to it read, “Your food’s been delivered.Now I’m going out to dinner.” 

Whatever.I didn’t give a shit.I slapped at the phone with numb fingers.It rang once and he picked up, just as he had promised.

“Luck, Timmy, luck!” I was panting, my voice too loud in the dead acoustics.I didn’t care.I had to tell him.He _had_ to know!I squinted to try to see his face clearly, but my eyes refused to focus.

“Armie?What’d you say?It’s so loud in here.You all right?” 

“Forgot to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”There had been sounds of clapping around him, some waves of laughter.

“Good luck.Good luck tonight, and…and…”My mind was too far gone to stop.“You gotta know…had to tell you…I'm in…I...I’m really in lo—“

There had been a swell of laughter, and he’d snapped his head up, the light around him suddenly exploding.Then, his face disappeared in a swirl, and I was a blinded by the same white beam.

A camera.

And the moment had passed.I had severely doubted that, robbed of the harbor of an illness to strip down my usual defenses, I’d ever have the courage to say those words to him again.

_Speak or die._

Should I?

I rip my phone from my pocket, and it flashes to life.I stare at the lock screen picture, a blurry one of two hands, _his_ hands, held palms out to conceal his face and push the camera away.I had taken it the morning after we had moved into the house, the very first time we had awoken together in our own bed.I can still hear his laughter. _What the fuck are you doing?No!_ _Stop, I look like shit!_ But he was beautiful—puffy eyes and swollen lips and sore legs.We couldn’t keep away from each other that night.I just remember wanting to bury myself inside of him, as deep as I could get, until I couldn’t figure out what parts were me and what was him, until the sound of his moans were the only things that my ears could hear, until the only thing that would fit in my mouth was his tongue.I wanted to peel off my skin and let it envelop him so I could shelter him while he sheltered me from everything in my life that tried to tear me down.

I never wanted to leave that room.

And now, here I am, in a stupid tent on the beach, amid a cesspool of caked-on makeup and fake cheer and hollow bullshit.I scan the room with unseeing eyes, hating every single one of them.

“Hey.”

I jump away from the wall and look down into Tessa’s amused face.I straighten my tie just to have something to do and lean back again, slipping my phone back into my pocket.“Hey.”

She waits and takes a sip of her drink, something bubbly, and raises her eyebrow at me.“All right, so what’s up with you?That’s all you got?Big man’s got no jokes today?No stories about people trying to get a money shot up your sarong?”She hums thoughtfully.“Not like you to have nothing to say.”

I roll my eyes and smile sheepishly.“Sorry.I’m just…”I shrug and look away.I don’t even have the desire to make up a decent excuse.

She tips her head.“Heart’s just not in it tonight, huh?”

“Nope.”When I finally look back down at her, her face is soft and empathetic.She’s just trying to be nice, and I’m being a grumpy prick.I feel my shoulders sag, and I let my eyes fall to my shoes.“It’s in France, shooting a new film.”

Her eyes widen as the realization dawns, and she smiles.“Oh, baby, I feel that, I feel that.”She rubs my shoulder.“Yeah, your boy’s got some game, that’s for sure.I saw him in that glitter harness at the Globes.You better keep your eye on that skinny boy…”She angles her head around until she catches my droopy gaze, then lets her grin broaden by degrees, pulling a reluctant smile from me as well.“ _There_ he is!” she crows and punches my arm lightly.

I chuckle in spite of myself.“You’re too much for me, you know that?”I shrug and bite at my lip.“I just miss him, that’s all.”

“Come on, I’ve never even gotten the chance to have a complete conversation with him, so spill.Tell me what he’s like.”

“Well…”My grin grows as wide as hers. _Tessa, you’re a bona fide goddess_.She knew all along, of course.She knew that if anything is going to bring me out of a funk, it would be waxing rhapsodic about my favorite subject: all of the constellations in the galaxy of Chalamet.“That depends.”

“On what?”

“His mood.”I scratch at my scruff, a cascade of vivid images in my head.“One minute, he’s just… stillness, the quiet contemplation of a time and a place, of a moment in a life caught at the point that shows its greatest genius—the quintessential artist.And then, all of a sudden, he’s the punk with his hat on backward and a smirk on his face, rolling his eyes and pushing his earbuds tighter into his head.”

“A chameleon, huh?”

“God, no, an absolute shapeshifter.”I shake my head in wonderment.“Because then he’s like a pink princess in his sister’s hoodie, wearing some ridiculous bulbous sunglasses and an effervescent bubble gum smile, with a pink sucker swirling around his raspberry tongue.”I hear the bubbles of her laughter, but my eyes look inward.All I see is him.“Then, he’s that shy, soft boy in his mussed oversized t-shirt, with sleep-crusted eyes and a video game controller in his hand.But _then_ …”I growl as the memory courses through me like kerosene.“Then, he’s the slick socialite with these black tails and white gloves and soft-butter leather that molds like shrink wrap to every single bend of his body.”I shake my head and shiver in spite of myself.“Sex with seams.”

She purses her lips in a low whistle, and I blush furiously.Her fingers pat my jacket pocket.“You gonna call him?”

I frown and dig my toe into the carpet.“No.I want to, but it’s the middle of the night there.Clearly, I’m a selfish asshole, but I’m really trying not to be.”

“Oh, stop it.”She waves her hand.“You’re not so bad.”

I smirk at her.“Sure.Thanks.”

“Look at it this way: _he_ loves you, so you can’t be _all_ bad, right?”

At that moment, a vision passes us—the spectacular Janelle Monáe in geometric black and white, red lips curled in a sly smile.She nods to me, but it is Tessa’s eyes that she grabs and drags with her right out of the room.

I elbow Tessa.“Go.”

“Huh?”Her gaze still hasn’t left the doorway.

“What the fuck are you doing still standing here?”

She looks at me uncomprehendingly, eyes unfocused.“What are you—“

“Go!”I nudge her.“I can stand here and marinate in bitterness just fine on my own.You clearly don’t have to join me.”

She laughs and blows me a kiss, gulping down the remnants of her drink and skittering toward the exit.

 

* * *

 

My seat, for reasons surpassing understanding, is at a table in the front of the room.My back is to the stage, but I could not possibly care less.I came here for Luca, and he didn’t even show.If it wasn’t for Boots and the rest of the cast, I probably would’ve left already.

I plunk down and look at the salad, trying mentally to turn it into a medium-rare New York strip, something that might give me even a sliver of pleasure.

“I told him I’d keep an eye on you.”I throw my head up to see the shimmering figure of Glenn Close sinking into the chair next to me.I open my mouth, but I’ve no idea what to say. _Is she serious?_ “He made me promise,” she smiles warmly “and I just adore that boy!”

I swallow just to stop my mouth from hanging open.“That makes two of us.”

“How’s he been?He seemed very energized about his new projects—and yours, for that matter.”

I feel my cheeks heat, and I nod and pour her a cup of coffee from the decanter next to me.“Yeah, well, Timmy is nothing if not energized.Constantly.”She grins.“I think he’s reread _Dune_ three times in the last two months.”

We gab about blockbusters and the punishing nature of filming them.I tell her about Timmy and Pauline nearly killing each other when they spent six hours attempting to put together an IKEA bookshelf for their grandmother for her birthday.We commiserate about the demands of being a parent with a job that necessitates erratic travel.A half hour later, I am surprised to find that I’m actually enjoying myself.

As the ceremony nears its start, she abruptly grabs my elbow and fixes me with an intense gaze.“Look, I know it may not be my place to tell you this, but I’m so very proud of you two.You actually went for what you want!” 

I shake my head slowly.“Yeah, but really, I couldn’t have…I mean, there was just no other way I could’ve lived.He’s too…he’s everything.”My eyes swell as it hits me square in my chest how much I truly mean every one of those words.I take a sip of water and try to smile, but my lips warp.“I’ve been afraid for most of my life, but Tim?He makes me brave.”

“I’d say you do that for each other.He told me that you are the strongest person he knows.”

I huff, “Yeah, in a deadlift maybe.But he trounces me in every other way, in every way that matters.”

“Nonsense.You have learned to depend on each other, and because of that bond, that trust, you weren’t cowed by the entrenched conservatism this industry refuses to let die.”

“Ah, is that the specter of toxic masculinity you speak of?”

A wise brow raises.“Indeed.And trust me, kid, I’ve seen it _all_.”Her eyes grab their fire again.“But I’m hoping that you two really make a difference.It’s the only way for this culture to change, for other independent spirits to be moved to live lives worthy of their time and passion, outright and unapologetically, as you have.”

“Or _you_.”I raise my eyebrows.

She chuckles throatily.“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I know that I wouldn’t have had the balls or the brains to bring my dog as my date to this circus, so I think I’ve still got a lot to learn.”

She throws back her head and cackles, which makes the little ball of fluff at her feet sit up and give a few raspy barks.“What’s better than that?”

 

* * *

 

I’m flipping channels in my hotel room that night when my phone buzzes. 

_Have fun?_

He’d have called if he could talk, so I tap out my reply. _No Chalamet, no fun._

_Liar_.

I snort and send him a picture from the evening. _Met a friend of yours_.

_Glad to see she kept her promise_.

_She was very interesting to talk to. And she’s proud of us_.

_I am, too_.

My chest burns.Jesus, I need to touch him, to feel how he changes under my hands and grows taut when he’s turned on, to hear the soft noises that he makes when he’s pushed to his limit and done being gentle, when he throws me down and shoves my head back and kisses me like he’s trying to reshape the bones in my face.I want to surrender to him, to stare into his black eyes as they calculate how best to destroy me, and go slack, let him take whatever he wants from me.Use it, own it.It’s all his, anyway, every single cell I have.I clench my teeth.

_I miss you_.

_You better.Wear the hoodie._

_Too crusty._ Not an exaggeration.

_Sick. Perfect, but sick._

_See you in Paris soon._

_You mean in 1 day, 21 hrs, 34 min? Yeah, vaguely remember that…_

I’m going to fucking explode.If all I’m allotted again this year is that small square of his face, I’ll take it.I’ll take whatever I can get.I’ll feast on the crumbs with a knife and fork until the main dish is served.He doesn’t have to be here to fill the room and leave me breathless.

_Call me tonight?_

_Yes._

_Need you._

_Fuck yes._

_Should let you go now. Know you’re busy._

_Sometimes._

_Playing nice with the other kiddies?_

_Usually._

_Love me?_

_Always._

**Author's Note:**

> Part of Glenn Close’s comments to Armie I based on this actual quote from her at the Independent Spirit Awards: “All of us here are independent spirits, who have learned to depend on each other to create movies worthy of our time and passion. What’s better than that?”
> 
> [This picture](http://www.zimbio.com/photos/Glenn+Close/Armie+Hammer/2019+Film+Independent+Spirit+Awards+Show/UDSlwbgpzQz) of Armie chatting with Ms. Close is what launched this whole installment. I could only imagine that they were swapping stories of the illustrious Mr. Chalamet.


End file.
